Jumping through Government Hoops

I hope you’ll indulge me as I write about something not directly related to particular books . . . but ultimately it has a lot to do with books, and who chooses them, and how we use them.

I just finished filling out the “Certificate of Enrollment” for each of my three compulsory-attendance age sons.  This is Mississippi’s only requirement for homeschoolers, and it seems fairly mild compared to some states’ Big Brotheresque regulations.

Yet somehow it both amuses and irks me.  Amuses me because of the irony of filling out a document titled “Certificate of Enrollment” when the whole point is that we’re not enrolling.  Amuses me that the official to whom we must submit this form is called an “Attendance Officer” (and we’re not attending), just as many small-town schools (at least here in Mississippi) were given the name “attendance centers” back in the days of consolidation.  Attendance, not education, seems to be the primary concern of the government school system.

And it irks me because it seems wildly inappropriate for an independent educator to have to report in any way to the government educational system.  Makes about as much sense as requiring independent restaurants (Joe’s Diner) to report to McDonald’s each year.  Or no, actually it’s more like requiring all home cooks to register with, report to, or, in some states, submit detailed menu plans and sample ingredients to the State Board of Health.

Nobody else cares as much about my children’s education as I do.  Nobody else knows them as intimately or understands their interests, abilities, talents, and challenges as well as I do. And God has given me—not the government, not the local “attendance officer”—responsibility for training and educating my children.

I don’t keep track of “school hours.” I don’t keep a record of “attendance.” (Fortunately my state doesn’t require such nonsense.)  My boys are “attending” life and learning 24/7.  How could I possibly compartmentalize their minutes and hours and days and say “this is school” and “this is not school”?

Is it “school” when my 13yo goes on a mission trip to Peru or attends an Internet marketing conference with me or reads a book about ancient Greece just for the fun of it or earns his swimming merit badge at Boy Scout camp?  Is it “school” when my 10yo interrupts watering his sunflower garden to inspect an interesting insect and runs inside for his beloved field guide so he can identify it?  Is it “school” when my almost-9yo discovers a new drawing technique by trial and error or asks interesting theological questions out of the blue?  Is it “school” when my almost-5yo snuggles in my lap for a story and later acts out the plot with his stuffed animals?

I don’t know whether these activities are officially classified as “school,” and, truth be told, I really don’t care.  What I do know is that these activities are just as educational as the more formal lessons I assign.  Perhaps more so.

Mary Jo

who delights in keeping her children supplied with books about business, Greece, gardening, insects, drawing, Winnie the Pooh, and much more . . . available 24/7 on the shelves of our very eclectic home library